Bleach Drabbles Collection
by TheaBlackthorn
Summary: Drabbles from Bleach for my Drabbles challenge on YGallery
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing: Ichigo/Hichigo**

**Prompt: Silence **

**For: j7nx**

Ichigo awoke slowly, his eyes slowly cracking open as his back groaned in protest as his body shifted. He felt strangely chilled though he couldn't figure out why that would be. He had fallen asleep safe at home lying on his bed, moonlight falling through the window where he hadn't closed the curtains fully. As he shifted, hand coming up to scrub at tired eyes he could hear the soft plopping of water falling.

When tea coloured orbs opened fully, he sat up slowly, staring out not at the familiar walls of his room, but at his own inner world and yet it wasn't the same as usual. Yes the familiar sideways buildings were present, but as he looked up the sky was dark and the moisture he could feel steadily dripping onto his skin from the sky, was rain.

He had never been here when it was raining, though he knew it did from the familiar protests of his inner hollow and Zangetsu himself. But as he looked around he thought that he may understand their complaints, his inner world was dark, almost forbidding, under the weight of the rain. There was no sound but for the constant plip of moisture as it landed on the glass of the buildings, he remembered from their accounts that it rained often here so he could understand that the sound could become irritating over time.

He cast about, searching for either the old man or his hollow self. They were the only reason he would be pulled in here, it was obvious someone had something they wanted to discuss or as on most occasions - fight about. He caught sight of a figure in the rain, it was coming down more steadily now, blurring his sight. So he picked himself up, resettling his zanpaktou more comfortably across his back before walking towards the figure, each footstep muffled by the slosh of water underfoot.

He was surprised when the figure didn't move as he paced steadily forward, when he could actually make out the form he was confused. It was a rare thing for his hollow not to attack him as soon as he arrived in this world. At that moment he stood, staring out across the buildings seemingly lost in thought. He was open, his back facing Ichigo and showing no signs of acknowledging his presence. So the young shinigami moved closer, hand stretching up to grasp the handle of Zangetsu as he warily called out to the strangely silent man, "Oi! What did you call me here for?"

He watched, eyes widening at the sombre look he was given by his hollow. He couldn't help shifting forward, a frown wrinkling his brow as he warily came closer to the quiet figure. When he was a metre or so away, he watched amber eyes spark in recognition and then he was flying, a fist having sunk into his gut and sent him winging backwards. He stumbled and fell at the force of the impact and looking up he saw the negative image of himself running forward.

Ichigo had to look twice before he could figure out exactly what was missing from that image – his hollow wasn't wielding Zangetsu.

He rose to his feet, hand going for his hilt and hovering over it for a moment before moving back again, curling into a fist as he stood and took his fighting stance. He pushed forward and fists flew, hitting and colliding with solid blows on both sides, but his hollow never spoke, never smiled at the glory of violence like he always did. Ichigo found the lack of banter, of that familiar expression concerning.

He watched the other as they danced together trading blows until they both stood back dripping with sweat as the rain fell around them. He knew he shouldn't let his guard down, but he stood up, straightening and lowering his hands to his sides as he spoke to the silent man, "What is wrong with you? No jibes. No King this and King that?" He frowned, tilting his head at the other.

When the hollow blurred and vanished from in front of him and he felt the sudden pressure of arms wrapping around him he froze, unsure what the hell was going on. He felt hot breath ghost over the skin of his neck and tried to repress the shudder that it sent down his spine, the first touch he'd had since.... he shut that thought away not wanting to face it. He turned his head at the breathy sounding chuckle that it caused in his hollow, feeling his others chest vibrate with the sound.

Ichigo felt some semblances of relief wash through him as his hollow spoke in that familiar watery voice, "Hmmm so King doesn't like silence huh. Well there's something we don't like – the rain. It's been raining here for months and it's time it stopped."

Ichigo felt a hard nip at his neck as those arms tightened around him; he could feel a weight on his chest that wasn't anything to do with the creature holding him. He couldn't help but lean back into the hollow's embrace as he nipped at the skin of his throat, his voice breathy when he spoke, "What...are you talking about."

"Stupid King – I will only do this once you hear me? Now do us all a favour – let it go."

Those three words triggered something inside him and he felt his body going weak and he was gently brought to his knees. What surprised him more was that his hollow didn't release him, but carefully turned him so he was half pressed into his chest, his face tilted down as he felt strong arms curling around him once more. The familiar feel of strong arms around him stirred memories he wasn't sure he could face.

He watched as small dark patches appeared on the fabric of his kimono, he felt heat sliding down his face and a white hand grasped his chin and lifted his face turning it away from the ground to look up. What he saw in those normally angry amber eyes was missing; instead it was filled with quiet determination. He watched as pale lips moved as the hollow spoke, "You're killing yourself King – we know you are... unhappy that you lost him but this must stop. We will not be snuffed out because of you."

The hollow turned and looked out at the world they were currently sat in, "If I must be stuck here until I gain my chance King then you will suffer me." Ichigo raised a hand to his face, wiping away the heated tears as he too looked out were his hollow's gaze had drifted seeing the clouds finally clearing.

He smirked at the sight before pushing away from the creature that had held him, "I won't let you win."

His hollow turned back to him then, a familiar shit-eating grin splitting his lips, "I expected nothing less my King."


	2. Chapter 2

**Pairing: Shuuhei/Toshiro**

**Prompt: Blush**

**For: DragonAceSg7**

Toshiro awoke very slowly, his body felt heavy and wonderfully warm but that in itself was over ridden by the feeling of something shifting softly through his snowy white strands, kneading against his scalp gently. It was such a rare and welcome sensation, his brain still foggy from sleep but the combination of such a tender touch and the luxurious warmth that surrounded him made him hum softly in approval before shifting closer to the source of that heat.

It took him a good few minutes to register that the heat he was actively seeking out and the gentle touches were coming from a person. That was when he heard a soft sigh coming from above him and he all but tried to leap out of the bed startled by someone's presence in what he assumed to be his quarters in the tenth division. He felt something pull almost painfully tight around his wrist, scraping at the skin right before he tumbled backwards with the force of the motion. What he expected to be a hard landing was instead buffered as two bands of steel closed around him before he hit the cushioned floor pad. Toshiro shivered at the feel of those strong arms embracing him, their warmth seeping through the cotton of his uniform.

He took a deep calming breath, his heart slowly easing from its rapid staccato rhythm and he turned his head to look up at whoever had a hold of him. He was greeted by the sight of dark messy spikes, lightly tanned skin adorned with three vertical scars traversing the man's right eye and a very familiar band bridging the dark haired mans nose with the figures six and nine beneath – Hisagi Shuuhei.

But what was the fukutaicho of the ninth division doing in his quarters?

Toshiro felt his heart pick up again as he stared into dark orbs, he could feel heat rising to his cheeks at the proximity of the taller man. The fact that he was settled quite contentedly on his futon, those strong arms curled around his smaller frame. It started a fluttering sensation deep in his stomach as heat tried to flood his cheeks. He turned away from that sharp gaze and took the opportunity to look down at his wrist, raising the appendage into the pre-dawn light filtering in from the window. What he found was that as he moved his arm Hisagi's followed suit, a cold metal band connected by a strong chain was looped around both their wrists.

He turned inquiring eyes up to the, so far, silent fukutaicho and the quirk of his brow seemed to cause the other mans lip to twitch subtly as if he was restraining the urge to smile. When Hisagi spoke his voice was rough from sleep, "Ran-Matsumoto-san." Toshiro nodded once in response as he let his breath out on a sigh as his eyes shifted away from the dark haired mans gaze. Matsumoto had persuaded him to attend the party she was throwing for his birthday, there had been lots of sake, not exactly unusual for his fukutaicho, a number of their colleague's happily imbibing said drink - but he couldn't remember how he had gotten into this predicament.

Toshiro eyes snapped up once more when Hisagi shifted, cloth brushing against cloth as he sat up tailor style, his voice was deep but quiet in the small quarters, "She...Matsumoto ..she...well she meant well but...ah..." Toshiro watched as Hisagi looked away momentarily, he didn't think anything made this man nervous but it didn't last for long, before he looked back into his own turquoise orbs unerringly and continued, "You got a little drunk Hitsugaya-Taicho." Toshiro sat silent for a good five minutes absorbing this news and he slowly thought over what he could remember. There were lots of holes in his memory which frustrated him but he did remember a very hazy image of Matsumoto grabbing his wrist and hauling him up before depositing him in Hisagi's lap. His foolish subordinate had been professing that if they both liked each other so much they should just get on with it, before she'd locked them together with the hand cuffs Ayasegawa-san had given him as a gift.

The small captain felt his face turn a rather unappealing shade of cerise and he didn't dare look up at the fukutaicho sat in front of him, wanting nothing more to crawl back into the oblivion he'd fallen into late the previous evening. What he got instead was a warm calloused fingertip's, running along the skin at the nape of his neck, drawing firm circles in the tense muscles. He felt his body come alive with just that single touch, heat coursing through his veins as those fluttering sensations erupted in his lower abdomen. He chanced a look over at Hisagi from under pale lashes to see a grin turning the corners of his lips. He wasn't sure what to say to that face, the man looked as though he was a cat that had caught the canary.

Toshiro pushed his emotions down, feeling the heat on his cheeks decrease as he turned a cool stare over at the amused man. He watched Hisagi closely before speaking, "What is so funny _fukutaicho_?" He was getting rather annoyed with the other man but was shocked again when instead of responding he was dragged quite forcibly into the others lap, a firm hand at the base of his spine holding him in place as he tried to scramble away. His anger was simmering to a boil just under his skin, and he all but growled, "Hisagi!"

He heard the other man chuckle softly and it sent warm breath ghosting across the skin of his neck before the words that followed sunk in, "You are damn sexy when you're angry _Taicho._" He felt his whole body heat at that statement and his anger was momentarily forgotten as he felt a flush swamp his face, no one had ever told him that before. When Hisagi pulled back Toshiro was still staring at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted and though he heard Hisagi's next words he couldn't formulate a reply, "Can I give you your birthday present Hitsugaya-_Taicho_?" His normally sharp mind was being overcome with the presence of this man, his warmth, touch, voice it left his mind oddly silent and it was... nice.

He nodded robotically in response and he was rewarded from that single action with more of that delicious heat, but rather than more of those ministering hands he felt a warm breath slip over his tongue as Hisagi leant in and pressed his lips chastely to his own. They were slightly dry, but supple and soft, and they fit so perfectly against his own that he felt his eyes shut involuntarily. When Hisagi pulled away without deepening the kiss Toshiro almost whimpered at the loss but restrained the impulse, not wanting to give the other anymore of an advantage over him. When his heavy lids finally opened to stare into hooded eyes he gave the smallest curl of his lip to see that Hisagi's cheeks had tinted a soft rosy hue.

He spoke softly to the other man as he eyed him appreciatively, "Hm. Looks like I'm not the only one _Shuuhei_."


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Growl

Author: Theablackthorn

For: SweetSeme

Rating:

Pairing: Ryuuken/Uryuu

Warnings: BL

Uryuu lay on the bed, one arm laid over his head resting on the pillow the other absently wandered across pale, sweat slick skin, finding and tracing the dark bruised and bitten skin that littered his body. His thought's were slowing ebbing through his mind, the only time the seemed to ease was after the tumultuous sex he very rarely got.

He could hear the shower in the background of his thoughts, the steady rain of droplets was enticing but not until he was done, not until he left as he always did. Uryuu felt a sharp shaft of pain at that uncharitable thought but pushed it aside, finger's digging into the mark that adorned the juncture of throat and shoulder enough that it broke open the scabbed over bite mark.

He winced but didn't stop, the sharp reminder much needed. The man currently in his shower only came here for one thing - sex. And through Uryuu always gave him what he wanted he was never truly satisfied. There was no love there – just a raw possession of his body and he wanted, needed so much more.

Though he would never ask for it.

He shifted slightly in the sheets, the cotton sticking to his cum covered abdomen as his partner's seed leaked from his abused hole. He ached in unfamiliar but pleasant places. His body always satisfied where his mind was left hungry.

He never came unless Uryuu had been hurt or he'd been foolish. He had relented on his issues with Shinigami if only so that he could demand Uryuu's utter obedience in other arenas. But it wasn't enough.

Uryuu needed so much more and this, whatever this was, wasn't enough. Would never be enough. The other man was implacable, unwavering like a rod of pure iron, unwilling to bend even a little.

Uryuu's heavy gaze trailed across the clothes that lay scattered across the floor until they landed on the closed door to the bathroom. He sighed, a frown dipping his brow before he slowly rose, pain ignored in favour of rising from the bed.

He needed that man's love, his interest, his care – he always had. At one time Uryuu had thought that this was the one way he could reach it, but he never stayed, there were no kind words or tender gestures.

And yet, that unmistakeable growl of possession that filled his ears as they had both come so completely undone made him wonder, as it always did. In that single moment Uryuu felt all those thing's his mind and his body craved from that man – passion, need, want, desire, trust and love.

Such a torrent of emotion that slipped past his lip's on heartfelt gasps and moans of true pleasure as those familiar teeth sank into his skin, leaving behind another mark of his attentions.

Uryuu sat perched on the lip of the bed, hand still absently stroking the tender flesh at his throat when the door he stared at listlessly cracked open, steam billowing out. A familiar pale, toned man stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist as he looked across the small room to the bed to see Uryuu sat there, "You need to shower."

Uryuu felt pain lance through him once more at the cool words, the passion that had caused that possessive growl absent once more. He responded as he rose from the bed, eyes looking away from the other man, "I know Ryuuken."

That man was not his father right now and Uryuu didn't want him to see the cost of what it did to him everytime Ryuuken came for this. To reclaim him as though he were a possession with no regard for his needs. And though he felt the familiar prickle behind his eyelids the tears didn't come, he was Quincy.

As much as that caused him pain.

As much as Ryuuken caused him pain.

He would keep that one last scrap of pride and hold it tight against the pain of that lost moment. A safe guard against the needy growl that threaded past those deceptive lips, against falling into the love he knew wasn't there, and never would be.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: I Can Wait

Author/Artist: theablackthorn

Rating: PG-14

Pairing: Byakuya/Renji

Prompt/Summary: End of School.

Warnings: BL

AN: Drabble for Openlyred on LJ.

Byakuya stood waiting.

The Captain's and their lieutenant's placed in a line outside the Academy gate's, here to collect the new member's for their divisions. Byakuya retained that familiar nonchalant mask, but his eye's followed the movements of the other's around him.

But what he was waiting for wasn't quite the same as his fellow Captain's. He was here for the new member's of his division yes, but also because there was someone he wanted to see again. Someone who had caught his interest in a way that no one had since his late wife.

He watched silently as the student's filed out through the wooden gates of the Academy, loud, boisterous creature's needing to be tamed, trained in the ways of battle. They may have been on minor mission's before but his job as a Captain was train, to hone those skill's and to rank them accordingly.

When you became a shinigami you never stopped learning.

Byakuya's cool grey gaze looked out across the tops of their heads, disregarding them as he searched for … ahh… there.

His sense's strained towards the man coming forward with the crowd of newly graduated students. His rich head of crimson locks in its normal topknot, the dark ink on his forehead a reminder of his earliest travail's in the mortal world and the thing's he had accomplished.

Byakuya knew why he found this man interesting, though he knew the eleventh division already had a claim on him. It was an inconvenience, but he was patient, he had been taught to be nothing less as a noble of the first house.

He watched with apparent disinterest as that tall male sauntered alongside his friends, a wide grin splitting his lips in a feral smile as he clapped each of the slighter shorter men beside him on the shoulder. And something stirred inside Byakuya, sparking with unfamiliar warmth. He shoved those feelings down hard, burying them deeply were they would wait, hidden – protected for another time and place.

Time… Byakuya had time.

When his sister approached he turned from the sight of Abarai Renji's smile, to lead the young one's that trailed behind him like little ducklings back to the Sixth Division.

He would have time to watch the young redhead.

Byakuya had every intention of having the vivacious young shinigami in his own division, sometime in the future. He was a patient man after all. He could wait for the time when Renji was ready to move forward and, in the mean time, he would do everything in his power to entice the budding shinigami. Abarai Renji had potential, but he also held the interest of the Kuchiki clan head and that would lead him to an interesting path indeed.

_Fifty year's later…_

Byakuya stared down at the man laid out beside him, the soft whisper of breath pressing him closer to his Captain's side, calloused finger's splayed across his toned stomach. Byakuya's fingers twined around one of the rich red locks splayed over the pillow and across his chest were Renji's head rested. The strands were silky smooth as he passed them through his fingers, the quiet of the room filling him with a sense of ease and contentment as his fukutaicho slept peacefully against him.

He had waited for this, for years, and finally, after the tumult and madness of the last few weeks, Renji was his. Byakuya's free hand rubbed across the sleeping man's shoulder, tracing the slightly raised, inked skin, loving the feel of the smooth surface under his calloused fingertips.

After everything that had happened, Rukia was safe. And his Renji, alongside Kurosaki Ichigo, had made him see where he'd fallen. Byakuya was thankful in his own way. All his time spent waiting, wanting had evolved into an impenetrable wall that he had built around himself to keep other's at bay, even as he believed he was doing the right thing.

And Renji?

He'd shattered those walls, that lie, with his own strength, determination and fierce emotion.

Byakuya's gaze turned down to the redhead pressed against him, letting his own body ease into the futon and the press of warm skin and twined limbs. He couldn't remember a time that he'd felt so complete, even with Hisana – her illness had prevented them this gift. He was sad for that, but he was happy here with Renji. And though that idea conflicted with many others's ideas of what was proper and right, he didn't care.

He was home.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Don't Look Back

Author: Theablackthorn

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Ichigo, Isshin/Kisuke

Warnings: BL

A/N: LeftMeSpeechless on

He woke slowly, eyes heavy lidded as he stared around the room swathed in darkness. It took him a few moments to notice what it was that had woken him but when he figured it out he sighed, turning over to face the empty side of the bed and the bedside table that held the image of four glowing red digit's – it was three in the morning.

Isshin lifted a hand to wipe slowly across his face, he was tired but something far heavier weighed on his mind. Ichigo had gone out again. The flair of his son's powerful reiatsu when he'd popped himself from his body was the cause of what had initially wakened him. He had been growing far to use to the wave of reiatsu that flooded the house whenever Ichigo was called on and the coincidental wave of apprehension and guilt that flooded him.

Would this be the last time he felt his son's presence, or would he come back battered and bruised as he had so many times before?

The eldest Kurosaki stared listlessly at the ceiling, feeling the emptiness of the house around him. He knew Ichigo would be gone until morning, he often was. The other shinigami in Karakura kept the boy out til all hours of the night. He winced at the thought of seeing Ichigo in the morning, his features drawn, his body tired and yet he would still drag himself to school.

His son was growing older by the day, no longer the teenager he had been but a world-weary soldier called upon time and again.

Isshin hadn't noticed any drop in Ichigo's grades, even though he was well aware that Hollows attacked at any time and the amount of time that the mod soul spent in Ichigo's empty body was growing in its frequency and length. He was proud of Ichigo in so many ways and yet he felt responsible for everything that had happened to him in the last two years. His son had lost his innocence far earlier than Isshin would have wanted.

He wondered, as he did every time his eldest left the house on one of his late night hunts, if he'd done the right thing. He had left Soul Society and had found his beautiful wife and had three amazing children. And though he loved them all dearly and couldn't dream of ever leaving them, of not being able to love them. He still wondered if having children, knowing that they ran the risk of inheriting his shinigami powers and their Mother's own spirit sight, had he made the right decision?

Hindsight was both a gift and a curse. And though he knew that he couldn't undo what had come to pass, he regretted so many things.

He sighed audibly; the sheet's rustling as he turned to look at his own bedside table and reaching out to run his fingertips across Masaki's picture, sadness weighing heavily in his heart. "Masaski – what am I going to do?"

The picture had nothing to say and as much as Isshin wished his wife could be there, her hands rubbing across his back as he let his worries take him over, she wouldn't return. What he wouldn't give for her advice or just a gentle touch. Though he knew it was a selfish wish on his part, because Ichigo, Karin and Yuzu needed her more.

He missed her fervently; she had been his rock, the person to weigh him down to Earth whenever she thought he needed it. And though he had found comfort and solace with someone else – he would always love her fiery nature, her passion. Ichigo had inherited that and sometimes that had been the only thing keeping him in the house and letting his only son walk out to face the world on his own.

He rose slowly from the bed, it was going to be one of those nights, sleepless until dawn when Ichigo would return in whatever state he had gotten himself into. The boy had never known how many time Isshin had come up to tend to him as he lay unconscious how many times he had put the young man to rights as his heart felt like it was breaking.

He needed company tonight or he didn't know if he would make it to dawn without going to help his only son. It was his fault, this was his legacy and he would bear it, but sometimes he needed a little help.

00-00-00

Urahara came out of his shop, cane in one hand fan hanging at his side as he eyed the man sat on his porch. He had felt Isshin arrive, even though his reiatsu was dampened to the point were very few could feel it. He had an inkling of why the elder Kurosaki was on his doorstep and he felt something heavy, which he refused to acknowledge settle on his shoulders. He let a soft sigh escape his lip's before he spoke quietly, "What are you doing up at this hour Isshin?"

He watched as the dark haired man looked up and over his shoulder, his normally cheerful visage looked drawn and for once the man looked tired. It pulled at Urahara, he didn't like seeing him like this and he knew that he wanted to make it better, to bring some of that determination back to Isshin's face.

"I just… needed to be near someone." The words sounded tired too - forlorn.

The shop keeper hunched down, knees creaking as his weight rested on his heels, beside his old friend, curiosity edging in, "What about the girl's?"

"There away on a camping trip with school for the week."

He waited for Isshin's reply, it was subdued and almost relieved. He wasn't sure he understood that relief but then he didn't have all the information did he?

He eyed Isshin from under the shadow of his hat; this would need something a little extra. He had known Isshin long before they both had left Soul Society and he was a good friend and he knew this mood all too well, "Ahhh… tea?"

"Hmm…yes please."

Urahara smiled, though Isshin didn't see, his concentration having returned to the open area before the shoten. He didn't call for Tessai, slipping inside the shop and preparing the tea himself before returning to settle beside the unmoving Kurosaki.

He poured the steaming tea into two cups as he spoke, fan sat beside him, cane resting against his leg within easy reach, "You're being maudlin again."

"I know."

He looked down at the quiet man, looking through a mist of steam rising from the cup he'd brought to his lips, "That won't help you know? Masaki wouldn't appreciate it either. She would be the first to berate you for it."

He could hear the deep breath and the heavy sigh that followed as Isshin spoke, "I know that too."

He couldn't help but question, probe and dig for answers it was in his nature to do so, he was a scientist but this was more than that – Isshin was a friend, more than a friend to him. Though the dark-haired man didn't know that, he couldn't help this deep seated need to help him. "So?"

"So, I can't always help it – he's my son Kisuke."

Urahara shivered when that deep voice whispered his name, the ghost of heated finger's drawing up his spine before he willed it away – now wasn't the time – if it ever would be.

He watched Isshin's posture shrink further, his shoulder's looked like they were weighing him down as he leant heavily on his knees, head bent forward , shadowing his face from Urahara's gaze.

He looked down at his hands as they held the delicate porcelain cup, he drew a deep breath, the sweet scented tea filling his sense as he put together a suitable response, "Though I am not a Father, Isshin, I do understand that there are responsibilities – feelings, that never go away. But you do this too much. Don't you have any faith in him at all?"

The question was calculated, as most of his words word, designed to make one think, assess, incite and it did its job well.

"Of course I do!"

Isshin turned to level a glare at him and he shrugged, apparently completely comfortable with that hard look levelled on him, even though ever hair on his body was standing to attention as he remembered that look paired with a reiatsu that caressed over his body like velvet. But his sudden need wasn't conveyed in his words. All that sounded was a firm, almost demanding voice that he didn't use often, it was a remnant of a person he had been long ago and had left behind, "Then start showing it."

The way Isshin's eyes widened at the tone of his voice was both amusing and endearing, he'd never managed to startle the normally laid back man.

"I…"

Urahara kept his gaze locked with Isshin's, willing him to see what he was doing, to make him think beyond what he was seeing. The man was doing himself more harm than good and if he wasn't careful he would hurt the people closest to him, this type of thinking was destructive – he knew that all too well.

Yoruichi had taught him that lesson – and he hadn't forgotten.

"Your concern is warranted, I'd be a fool to tell you otherwise but Ichigo is strong – bullheaded – just like his Father."

"Thanks."

He got a quiet snort from the dark haired man and he felt a little better for it, for Isshin to be even vaguely amused by his insult was a result in his book.

Isshin took the cup of tea Urahara offered him, those big hands wrapping around the small cup and making Urahara think about those hands far less innocently than he knew he should. His focus had wavered for a moment but as soon as Isshin spoke he focused again, just needing the slight prompt to keep him on track.

"I want to help him Kisuke; I sit at home with the girl's every night and he goes out to fight who knows what – Hollows, Arrancars? It never ends for him and he's just a kid."

Urahara sighed, he'd often felt the same. He cared about these children far more than he let on. Some nights he wished he'd never gotten them involved and yet he knew that the time was coming when they would be the only thing between victory and defeat. It weighed rather heavily on him and he couldn't deny Isshin the same feelings, his son was involved and that was far more reason for concern than his own. Which is why he regretted what he had to say next, how do you tell a Father that their son isn't a child any longer – he's a man?

Urahara didn't even try for subtly, he just went straight for it and hoped that Isshin wouldn't be too mad, "No he isn't. Ichigo grew up, he took on his responsibilities because he had to, because he had people he wanted to protect and he had the power to do so. You should be proud of him."

"I am. But I worry… I regret so many things, things that if I'd done differently…"

Urahara was a little surprised by Isshin's easy acquiescence, but he could hear the raw quality in his voice a mix of sadness, regret and guilt. He couldn't let it take hold and undo what they had started; he needed Isshin to be strong. He had plans after all.

He went straight for the jugular, silently thanking a certain woman who had taught him such tactics, "He wouldn't exist. Could you live with that Isshin? Could you wish away your only link to Masaki, your family?"

"Never."

Urahara had never been so glad to hear that familiar Kurosaki stubbornness; it was a rather familiar family trait that Ichigo shared. "Then stop living in the past, what's done is done – you can't change it."

"I know."

He could see that te deep frown that had been dipping Isshin's brow was lifting in small increments and he reached out, sensing what little reiatsu Isshin had and knowing the darkness that had edged it was receding. He sipped his tea before responding once more, "If you know Isshin, then stop doing this to him and to yourself."

"I will try."

Urahara was happy that Isshin was improving, for once oddly proud of himself for being able to talk his old friend into a better frame of mind. He'd envied Masaki the ease with which she had cheered this formidable man, he'd never want to face Isshin's temper. He stared at the eldest Kurosaki from under his striped hat's eyes hidden, "Good. The time is coming when he is going to need all the help he can get."

He paused for a moment, setting his cup on the tray he'd brought the tea out on, "That includes you old friend."

"I hope I can make him proud."

Urahara could see the burgeoning passion he was used to seeing in Isshin's face, the determination and sense of self that made him such a formidable opponent. And Urahara knew Ichigo would be proud of this man he resembled so much, "You will."

"How do you know?"

When question umber orb's turned to look at him he was glad for the shadows created by his hat, feeling heart rush into his cheeks for the first time in a very long time at Isshin's undivided attentions. He swallowed quietly and spoke softly, not used to giving having such personal conversations, pep talk's yes but this was different, "Because I believe in you both – far more than you believe in yourself."

"I…"

He watched with mild amusement as Isshin's own cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, and it made warmth bubble up in the pit of his stomach. He took pity on the other man and changed the subject, "Aren't you going to drink your tea, Isshin?"

He looked down to fill his own cup but was startled by Isshin's hand appearing in his peripheral vision, clasping his forearm through the voluminous sleeves of his green top, "Thank you, Kisuke."

Urahara shivered at the firm grip and the softly spoken thanks, but he also felt a wave of that familiar guilt well up, and he spoke adamantly, "Don't."

His gaze rose to look up at the dark haired man and the soft smile that curled his lips made Urahara's heart flutter erratically in his chest, there was such warmth in that smile, in that molten chocolate gaze.

"And yet I do."

His face flushed further and he went to turn his face down, carefully pulling back to remove Isshin's grip from his arm without effect. That large, calloused palm refused to release him and he felt something fluttering apprehensively in his belly. He looked up from under the edge of his hat to see Isshin closing in.

Urahara shifted back and came up short, banging into the railing beside him, and Isshin closed the distance, quick finger's relieved Urahara of his hat, letting the cool air ruffle his sandy coloured locks and he looked away. He was surprised by the soft lip's that pressed to his cheek, warmth shooting from that spot to rush through his body, as Isshin's breath ghosted across his newly exposed ear, "Thank you Kisuke – but now I need something else from you. I have been waiting for a while now."

"What are you saying?" His eyes darted back to Isshin's face to see a grin splitting his lips.

"You know."

The dark haired man leant in, running his tongue around the curve of Kisuke's ear and he desperately restrained the moan that wanted to escape. His body was heating rapidly, his cock swelling with arousal and pressing against his baggy trousers, only hidden by his shirt.

He wanted to protest, scrambling for something that would stop Isshin. He wasn't ready for this, hadn't ever thought it possible. "But Ichigo..."

"Is a grown up as you have already told me once this evening."

Kisuke could hear the laughter in Isshin's voice and it made something close to his heart squeeze at the rich sound. But he couldn't not protest, he wanted Isshin, but there were so many other things to consider, "But...Masaki..."

"...would want me to be happy."

That firm reply almost silenced him, the woman had meant the world to Isshin and he knew that he still loved her dearly. Could there be room in his heart for anyone else? "But..."

"Shush... you talk too much."

He didn't get to finish as those slightly chapped lips pressed against his own, those broad hands coming to rest on his waist and in his hair, holding him so that he couldn't escape. When Isshin's tongue gently caressed the seam of his lip's he parted them on a moan, letting the hot, slick appendage slide past to delve into his mouth. He didn't know what was ahead, he didn't know what this was – but he would take what he could get, even if they were making out on his front porch like two horny teenagers, he was glad his Isshin was back and the sad, maudlin man that had appeared on his stoop was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Mirror (75) (Ichigo):

He stared at his broken reflection, seeing shards of glass dividing up his face with sharp cracks and splinters. His fist was pressed to the surface, and from the corner of his eye he could see tiny rivulet's of blood seep between the shattered pane and his gashed skin. The pain didn't really register over the ache in his chest, the stabbing pressure in his heart.

He'd failed.

If Orihime hadn't...

He cursed softly under his breath, pressing forehead to shattered mirror and not caring that it cut as his skin. Harsh cackling filled the air and he looked up, the familiar sound grating on his nerve's and yet oddly welcome. Looking into the reflective shard's what looked back wasn't tanned skin and brown eyes, it was him but not, a monochromatic image. His inner reflection and it laughed in his face.

"_Ya stupid King, ya know that!"_

And for once Ichigo didn't deny it. He'd lost control and look what it had wrought – Ishida, he'd impaled the man he cared about most. The water laughter died away and when he looked into the glass the Hollow was pressed close, staring out as he stared in.

"_Ya couldn'ta done without me, ya weak – pathetic."_

Ichigo eyes squeezed closed as pain tightened his rib's, blood dripped and his own mind betrayed him. He knew didn't he – that he was weak and that without that – monster – he'd never have been able to defeat Ulquiorra.

But what he'd done to the Quattro Espada and to his two friends? Was it worth it, to hurt them to save them, to let that beast inside him free when he should have died?

"_Ya can't die King, not gonna let ya."_

Ichigo looked up into gold and black and let the pain free for once, he sagged against the glass, unmindful of glass biting into skin through cloth and whispered softly so that only his Hollow would here, "But I wish I could."


	7. Chapter 7

Pen and Paper (81) (Grimmjow/Ulquiorra):

Grimmjow scowled at the crumpled papers in his hand, the quill he was writing with dripping ink on the page as he tossed the balled up mess aside. All his efforts and nothing, he couldn't do it – he couldn't get his hand to follow the simple etch and flow he had seen Ulquiorra achieve.

He cussed fervently, eyes shut as he tried his best to ease the temper that flared inside him.

He didn't hear the person come in, but felt the sudden press of skin on skin and shifted subtly, familiar reiatsu swirling and colouring the air with a heady taste of misery.

"Ulquiorra." Grimmjow's voice was a soft sigh, as he felt the tension in his body pass, slender finger's soothing over his hand and un-cramping his finger's.

"You try too hard."

Grimmjow scoffed and glared from the corner of his eyes, "Che, says the one who's damn near perfect at everything. You're as bad as the Kuchiki."

Grimmjow saw a brow arch before his lover leant over him, smoothing out papers and settling his fingers around his hand, and Grimmjow let him. He felt slight pressure on his finger's and let his arm go limp, allowing Ulquiorra to move his hand in a slightly steadier swoop and curl. What he etched on the paper was wobbly at best but he could see the clear shape of the U Ulquiorra had helped him draw.

"Time."

Grimmjow sighed, but let Ulquiorra move his hand as he spoke, "Yeah but I wanna do this now!" If it had been anyone else it would have sounded petulant, from him it was sheer inpatients.

He heard a soft exhalation, Ulquiorra's version of a sigh and he leant back in the chair, head tilting to look at the dark haired man.

"Impatient."

Grimmjow chuckled, rising from the chair, dropping the quill, heedless of the ink scattering across the page as his hand twisted and captured Ulquiorra's, heat stirring hit and heavy in his body as he looked down at the lithe man.

"Ya like it, ne?"

Grimmjow's answer was an arched brow and he grinned as he leant in whispering across pale lips, "Teach me some more... later." And his lip's sealed over Ulquiorra's in a hot, slick kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

Snowdrops: (Ukitake/Staark/Kyouraku):

Stark eyed the tiny flower that lifted its bowed head above the snow, the tips of its thin spear shaped leaves poking up around it and he smiled. He settled himself on one knee, getting closer even as the cold snow that melted under his body heat chilled his skin. He reached out one tentative finger to lightly brush the pale white flower head, feeling the soft, downy texture under a rough fingertip.

"It's a snowdrop."

Staark had felt Ukitake and Kyouraku come up behind him, but didn't feel the need to rise. When Kyouraku settled in a crouch beside him, large hands gently reaching out and one lone finger tipping the tiny white blossom so that he could see the inside dappled with tiny yellow green spots.

"She is the first blossom to show in the spring, though she is a very tender flower, she is also the bravest – showing her pale blooms before any other."

Starrk turned to look at his lover, a small smile curling his lip at his serious expression but gentle language. Starrk's voice was low and smooth, just as serious as Shunsui's, "She reminds me of someone."

He turned his head to look at Jyuushiro, who had stood quietly behind them. He watched his other lover blink wide brown eyes, before a warm expression crossed his face.

"Why is that love?" Jyuushiro's voice was soft and mellow, a tender caress across chilled skin.

Stark stood and stepped closer to Jyuushiro. He didn't touch him at all but sensed the delicate prickle of their reiatsu brushing together, before he reached out, catching and stroking fine, pale white hairs between his fingers. Not sure how to voice his words when Shunsui spoke.

"Because love, you are as pale as a snowdrop, as brave and strong as her show of delicate blooms in the harsh cold of winter and as vibrant inside as her hidden heart."

Starrk watched Shunsui step closer, hand cupping Jyuushiro's elbow as his own fingers continued to pet the silky strands, a tender smile and soft flush lit Jyuushiro's cheeks and Starrk murmured quietly, "Just so."


End file.
